Late last night, almost a full week after delivering this little guy, we actually got to come home! While the infection in the lungs is gone, one of the resulting symptoms of the infection lingers: hypertension.

So with a prescription for oxygen to help alleviate work on his heart until the hypertension drops down, we headed home. It was the first time Rainbow Girl was able to see her brother in person. "The boys" will have to wait, since we decided our transition would be easier if they played at Grandma's house for the week.

I tell you what, every baby should have an older sister, especially one who is so excited about them.

Last Tuesday we woke Rainbow Girl up around 4 a.m., told her we were driving to Salt Lake to have the baby, and that she needed to look after the boys until Grandma came. She never went back to sleep she was so excited, and later in the morning she decorated the house for an impromptu birthday party for the baby.

One week later and the balloons have lost some gusto, but the decorations still stood.



Here's the little guy in the moses basket at the foot of my bed. Aaahhh...sooo good to be home.

Later tonight I was changing the water in some flowers that were on the table, underneath I found these little notes written by big sister.



"Whith love and peace, I hope you can care for that sweet little Gideon. I love you so much, guys! So I hope you can still have fun whith us and this busy baby. I love you sooooo much. Love, Chloe"



"Through all the things, evrything, I know you can handle this. So stop that cryin and start livin again, the only thing thats differen is the new baby. Love, Chloe"

My heart is full, even fuller than my dang chest. Thank goodness that the prayers of children are so powerful, I'm counting on her petition over the coming weeks (and months as the bills start showing up...ugh). I'm loving her cowboy sensibilities...stop that cryin and start livin again!

Good Night!
Mrs. Olsen

Today is Saturday, and my last post was just a few short days ago. It feels like it was forever ago. The trial and pain of being a ripe-for-the-harvest pregnant woman left me reflecting on "pain" and how that mini-trial, and its grouchy self-imposed symptoms, left me suspecting that should I really endure a major trial like cancer, there was a risk I might be in the bitter category (as opposed to the sweet communion category).

So yeah, a real trial that has the risk of life, or perhaps the risk of financial suicide. Maybe both. A trial (and I can see more clearly now: a blessing) that came to the earth just a few short hours after clicking "publish" on the hypotheticals of pain: a beautiful blonde boy, born at 7:55 a.m. on Tuesday April 5th, weighing a staggering 9 pounds 10 ounces.


Since that time I have pondered the ironies of this crazy week.

How The Mister of the House and I chose a birthing center, so we could receive professional treatment outside the annoying protocol of a hospital birth.

How this decision was also based on the fact that a normal safe birth at a birthing center would cost considerably less than a normal safe birth at the hospital.

And how, apart from the terror-inducing screams that bellowed from the innermost parts of my soul as this giant baby passed through the birth canal, I enjoyed a childbirth that was quick, healthy, attentive, and safe.

It's no wonder that we were shocked when just 5 hours after giving birth, during which time I enjoyed a full one-hour cuddle session immediately after his arrival, a time when I nursed him twice, a time when we cooed and sniffed and laughed at the unforseen odds of getting another blondie, well were just a little confused and shocked to be following an ambulance whisking our offspring to the NICU at the hospital just a few miles away.

Ironic that such a big healthy boy is so sick! Infection in the lungs, attending rise in blood pressure in the lungs, putting undue work on his little heart, and a seven day run of IV antibiotic fluids.



Ironic how we relished the thought of not being in the hospital, and how I now live there. Ironic how the hospital staff, and their annoying protocol, saved and is continuing to save my son's life.

Ironic that we planned on returning home the same day for an informal birthday party, and we haven't been home since (well at least me and the babe).

How my sweet and thoughtful blessing way necklace is around my neck everyday, but with another accessory: a NICU PARENT badge.



And more importantly, the irony that this pain is so much more real when compared to the pain I complained of on Monday (although valid: come on! I had a nearly 10 pound kid in my gutt).

And the sweet revelation that God is ever mindful of our family, and especially our little boy, and how we feel lifted up by his spirit through this unexpected detour we are taking. Through the tears, and the heart-to-heart conversations, The Mister and I have felt a sweet communion as we reflect on the possible and shocking changes this may bring to our family.

And ironic how we feel so blessed! Our family has been amazing and supportive. Our little giant is making A-MAZING progress in the NICU. He is growing stronger and is now getting all of his sustenance from me (yay!).

We are hoping to go home on Tuesday. Please keep baby Gideon in your prayers for a quick recovery.

** I have so many pictures I want to post! I will update them as soon as I am able. Thanks for all your prayers and concern for our family.**

So much has been happening here that it's almost a relief to have them done before the baby is here. Correction: it's a relief that The Mister has these projects done so Mrs. Olsen has him for few days after kiddo arrives to boss him around, change all the diapers, and get pampered.



Check out all our beautiful eggs! The speckled egg is from our blue slate turkey, who takes forever to become Thanksgiving worthy.

Our goat Betty is due any day! There is a birthing kit ready in the garage for the moment she goes into labor. I tease The Mister that his first love is having a kid soon, and his second love had a baby due yesterday. This is just my super effective methods of getting extra sympathy for harvesting his exploding seed in my gut.

And check it! We have pigs again. This time we're trying to raise them for the fair, which means Rainbow Girl has to become their buddies and be able to lead them around an area with a tap of a stick. Should be interesting.

Also, coming soon to the farm and for the first time: HONEYBEES. I can't wait!

Today marks the first time I have ever been over my due date. I cannot believe I'm still pregnant. This conversation sums up my existence right now:

Friend arrives to my house last week to pick up eggs. I haven't seen her in two weeks:

Friend: (freezes in her tracks and stares) Oh. My. Gosh. You have gotten so much bigger just since I saw you two weeks ago.

Mrs. Olsen: Oh. Yeah?

Friend: Yes. How are you feeling?

Mrs. Olsen: Like I want to have a baby.

(2 minutes later)
Friend: So are you retaining water?

Mrs. Olsen: Nope. Not really. My wedding ring still fits me fine.

(10 minutes later, after friend is gone)
Mrs. Olsen realizes that the water retention question is relevant to the concept of How in the crap did you explode like that in two weeks? Mrs. Olsen subsequently teeters between blog-savvy women empowerment and unnerving esteem dips that make her want to hibernate away from the general public.


Basically I'm bi-polar right now. I've been super ornery and feeling sorry for myself. Then I listened to General Conference, where a speaker (who happens to be a surgeon) talked about the role that pain plays in our lives.

Pain, aside from the obvious physical ailments, can also be acquainted with spiritual pain, the tough times we all go through in our life but never saw coming. He spoke about how as a surgeon, he had to inflict pain oftentimes to alleviate pain and how people responded to pain very differently.

A) The pain (aka trial) makes them humble, more compassionate, and closer to Christ.

or

B) They become bitter and resentful towards loved ones, and God.

I basically realized that I have a tendency to fall into category B. I thought that if I ever had a real, life-threatening, prolonged physical challenge like cancer or something, there would be a high likelihood I would be an ornery bitch. Sorry Norma. There's no other word for it.

This realization was super lame, and also a little humbling.

I also realized that no one wants to hang out with someone who stinkin' complains all the time! So I've stopped answering my phone. It's to protect all the people checking up on me, loving me and worried about me, who might discover that I'm absolutely no fun to be around right now.

However, I occasionally will reach out during one of my "highs" to say hello, go to a matinee or eat out. So thank you for thinking of me, and don't take it personal.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to channel The Mister's sweet Grandpa. He has had fried nerves since he had shingles several YEARS ago. He falls into category A. He always talks about how my little Vanilla Wafer looks like he did when he was young.



The Mister's eloquent poetress cousin, sums it up nicely in her poem Persimmon. It's about Grandpa Jack, and her first poetry book is available here.

Persimmon
By Dayna Patterson

Wait for the first frost,
he said

The limbs sag with fruit
hundreds of green shiny eggs

Wait for the frost
and they will be pure
sugar in your mouth

The word persimmon
a parcel of liquid semivowels,
already sugars the mouth.

The persimmons slowly ripen
to tangerine brightness.

They're not ready
till they swell like water
balloons, skin splitting,
almost rotten.

She waits for the frost,
the kill cold to tame
tannic acid, to trick
out the sweet.

She thinks about
persimmons and people
mellowed to sweetness
by adversity's cold clap.

Grandfather's shingles
blowtorch his chest;
he pins a sock roll to his pocket
to keep shirt from flesh

Yet folks feel like kin
and kin like kings
in the fountain
of his kindness

She waits for the frost
and hopes her mouth
will welcome cold fruit.


P.S. Any ginormous pregnant woman gets a free pass for being ornery. For the record. But still, I have had much to think about. Just want to make sure any prego friends are feeling the love. Bitch and moan to me anytime :)

With the anxiety of A) getting this pregnancy over; and B) seeing this gestating kid and whether or not your DNA lapped The Mister's in the gene pool, means that you can get sidetracked from the actual moment of things. The state of your family unit.

Right now, I have two little boys that are just over 2 years apart (a pregnancy milestone for me, but pretty standard for most Mormon Mommies). They share bunk beds, they play, wrestle, and are Jedis and Spidermen together. Older brother sounds out words and little brother copies and exclaims that he can read too!



Here's evidence of some father-son weakness. Dad played soccer as a kid. He takes older brother to buy soccer clothes because he is finally old enough to play on a city team. Dad decides to purchase two of everything (including shoes!) so these two little boys can practice together in the backyard. Little brother can't even sign up for another two years, but daddio is making sure Team Olsen is covered for now.

When yet another little brother shows up ANY DAY NOW! *hint* there will still be matching uniforms to giggle into, kicks back and forth, and the sharing of deep slumbering breaths from the other bunk.

But how about when older brother is 16 and middle brother is a crummy 14? Will 14 be buddies with new baby brother (who would be 11)? And will older brother feel the transition and get his feelings hurt (because he is my cautious and sensitive kid)? Will the bunks end up being for the two youngest boys down the road to solidify the new union? Or will baby brother always share a room with oldest sweetest sister?

When I hold this new baby can I finally admit that The Buddha Baby is growing up? Will he despise the loss of his cherished title, or will the satisfaction of being on Team Olsen suffice him instead (since baby just sits there and sleeps)?

This is the evolution of childhood, of families, and of motherhood (as you manage new sibling alliances and/or try to restore lost ones). This is the evolution that is felt in the bones, not viewed through a microscope.

Does this mean I think this kid will come into our home and be a hell-raiser and disrupt the family unity we have? Well, of course not!

But change is in the air.

The trees are starting to turn colors.

And my autumn is so beautiful right now.

This past Christmas, my mother-in-law gave me a full-length, embroidered on the edges, flowing nightgown.


To be honest, I had NEVER worn a nightgown. I'm more of a workout pants and t-shirt kindof girl when it comes to bedtime. But I noticed the tag had a Dillard's sticker, and felt the soft brushed cotton, and took it home to wear to bed.

Enter Mrs. Olsen in nightgown. Rainbow Girl stops and stares. She says, "That's pretty" and the next day asks if I'll buy her a nightgown. The Mister of the House comments how cute it is. I wonder if they are serious.

The thing is, when I was a newlywed, I heard a tale (supposedly true) of a Hawaiian woman that ran on the beach every day for exercise. Once she became pregnant, she continued her daily jog. She jogged every week of her pregnancy, and even ran 3 miles the day she gave birth.

She was woman! Nothing would hold her back! She stayed in charge of her body and worked through the discomforts of pregnancy to provide good health to her new addition!

This was the woman I was determined to be. Tough. Resilient. In shape. Fitting into her skinny jeans 4 weeks postpartum. This is the woman who would have thought nightgowns were for grannies and not tough young mothers who jog the day before and the day after giving birth.



But then when I became pregnant, I felt like I was being overtaken by Alien Body-snatchers. Why does my favorite food make me ill? What's with the leg cramps? Why am I so freaking tired?

There's a beautiful (and necessary) loss of control when you incubate another human life. Because no matter how hard I try (and let's be honest, I have NOT tried as hard as the "Hawaii Lady") I can never seem to not get pregnant in my arms, butt, and sides.

This reality has been disheartening at times, and has later served as ammunition for victim-hood that only chocolate cake could understand.

But now, I am older and wiser. Offspring #4 is coming to earth soon, and while I am determined to skip church the next couple of weeks if I haven't gone into labor, there's a letting go that I am trying to embrace...A letting go without a grudge.

In my crunchy hippy birthing center, I am happy to announce that there exists the pregnant women apparently friends with the Hawaii Women. They usually have blogs and have gorgeous black and white photos of their bare tummies, sans stretch marks, showing thoughtful and/or exuberant images of their blossoming motherhood. I snuck this photo at my last appointment, check it:



La La La! Three, maybe even one pregnancy ago, this picture would have ticked me off just a bit. Now? It's just slightly annoying. Yay!



I am woman. Hear me roar!

I am 35 and love my nightgown!

My arse is a rectangle starting in my middle back, but I grow 'em gorgeous and strong. So it's okay.

And even though I'm going to skip church the next two weeks if I haven't gone into labor, God loves me and I think He's awesome. I recognize my blossoming as a blessing from Him.

Signed,
Thirty-five is the new 50 and it feels good...

Back in December, before I became an inflatable raft, The Olsen Gals had a little beebee party for the expecting Olsen Mommies. We ate great food, had a contest to see who could suck the water out of a bottle the fastest, and pretended to be fortune tellers stringing crystals above Mandy's belly to find out if she's having a boy or girl.


It was at this party that my creative sister-in-law talked about a cool birthing tradition from the Navajo Indians. It's called "The Blessing Way".

Boils down to this:
* Circle of women find a bead for the expecting mommy.
* With the bead, they include a "blessing" for the mother and child.
* All of the beads are strung together in a beautiful necklace.
* When it's GO TIME, screaming women in labor somehow texts, facebooks, or sends primitive indian vibes to her ladies that she needs their energy/prayers/love.
* Circle of women respond to labor vibes by lighting a candle, and keeping it lit during labor and delivery.
* Beautiful happy baby arrives and has loving and caring women already invested in his future.
* Mrs. Olsen is kicking herself in the pants because she forgot to send this request to all the women on the other side of the family (i.e. her side), as well as to her close friends.



But here is the finished product, waiting to go in my birthing bag, and asking for continued energy/prayers/blessing/love because that will have to be my epidural and I desperately hope it will work!

Thanks beautiful Olsen Family. Love the necklace!

Signed,
38 weeks + 2 days prego and wishing I had this kid yesterday...

Rainbow Girl and I recently scored when Grandma & Grandpa Cozy called up and informed us that they were taking us to see The 5 Brown's in concert at the local, beautifully restored downtown theatre. Having a peripheral knowledge of "The 5 Brown's", my eyes and ears perked up to their story.

All siblings from Utah. Nifty!
All classical pianists. That should help with piano lessons...
All trained at Juilliard. Whoah!

We were excited to have a special night with Grandma & Grandpa. While waiting for the big show over a month away, the media came alive with stories about the 5 Brown's that would turn me into the ogling drive-by lady in the Cadillac inching past a multiple vehicle accident with fatalities.

No one died, but in the course of a couple of weeks:
* The 5 Browns daughters (of which there are 3) filed charges against their papa for sexual abuse when they were younger
* Before his first appearance in court, the dad swerved his little Porsche off a canyon road in Salt Lake and went to the hospital with injuries (including his wife)
* Days later he appeared in court with cuts on his face, and pleaded guilty to the charges (his wife was still in the hospital)
* The next week he caused an accident when his beamer made an improper lane change

My first question is: Ew. Why does he have so many luxury cars?

And then: Wow, what a creep. Good for these girls to stand up for themselves!

So our concert marked the first performance since this catastrophe. The 5 Browns kept their touring schedule, they didn't gush about the details, and they thanked their fans for their support.



So we showed up and just look at our seats! Grandma Cozy got posh balcony seats with an amazing unobstructed view. The show was seriously amazing. You can see how their insanely big pianos are all formed into a puzzle so they can be in tune with each other. After the first number, Greg Brown introduced everyone and publically stated it was like coming home to play in Utah again. He specifically thanked all of their friends and fans for their support during this "difficult time in our family".

And then the show must have gone on. They were passionate and professional, wearing their own fashionable version of concert dress that included tweed jackets and sneakers, and rotating around the pianos with 5-somes, duos, trios, and solos.

I think one of the most touching numbers was when Melody Brown played the theme song from "To Kill A Mockingbird". What she said seemed to have layers of implication, especially considering their recent events with their dad. In a nutshell she said something along the lines of:

"I think this is the most honest piece I have ever heard. It seems to embody the story in To Kill a Mockingbird and the loss of innocence, but maintaining the faith that there is still good in the world despite that."

I'm pretty sure those were not her exact words, but it made me consider re-reading this awesome book or possibly naming this upcoming child Atticus. Most of all, it made my heart go out to this family with amazing talents, and a down-to-earth demeanor that insinuates that they will rise above this season and persevere. Of course, playing out your emotions on the piano should be great therapy as well.

At one point I found myself locked with my head sideways while I tried to follow what their hands were doing. If I closed my eyes, then it became a totally different experience. Crazy good were those little fingers dancing up and down those Steinways. Yikes!

The other highlight, was during the second encore, when Greg Brown sat down at the piano and sang this Coldplay song. Afterwards, all the siblings seemed quite emotional and hugged each other. It was touching to see their musical therapy play out on stage for us.

I love how the 5 Browns work hard to infuse a love of classical music in young people. And I LOVE that Grandma & Grandpa recognize my little Rainbow Girl's affinity for all things musical, and their support of this talent. Grandma Cozy even gave Rainbow Girl a journal specifically to record thoughts after all of her recitals and upcoming....choir concerts? plays? who knows!?



Thanks for an amazing night Grandma and Grandpa Cozy!